The Lost Children

What does it mean?
What do I know of sunlight 
and seams of gold racked fast
in hills' horizontal hold
of birds that fall
other men's wills
of all that crawls and sighs
swallows bitter pills
of living strife
ages torment-rent 
of ancient, present, life?

I have two eyes to see
the trees 
the stepping men
their pavements made of adamant
of worth being sold in yen
all dollars, cents, the men
we trample on, forging  
armageddon hands
to win the prize for all that's wrong.

Where does evil come - from
within, without, the setting sun, the going down
of light?
All the values old and known 
spat upon 
from fair winds in the brain 
turned foul
the awful bin of time 
our dregs arise to stench the air
we are left with nothing here
but sin and stink pervading in
above, below and through our days.

Our heads hazed
by wealth, and things more things
we swallow whole and stupidly
all the lies like plastic pigs
are worthless toys we buy
make us itch for more while more
is less and less worthwhile.
Our good is real, the true
heritage we lost, the inside Eden
forced by coin to lie
in dirty places
beauty gone and love erased
no kindly human faces.

All our ancient realms of gold 
those doric truths
clean upright lines of white
grown small, mean-minded, petty men
we have shrunk for mine all mine
and you can't have it ...
all our poisoned world
of crap we feed
the spirit reels
we de-evolve.

Gods shake their heads
how diminutive 
the worm's blind-butting head
we pass on
pyrites now
our lives lived
in a fool's winnings.

From cupped hands the days spill 
and our days are ill.
Our world revolves
despite our will to conquer it.

Our last, best hope
is of return
is waggon-tracked
in silence and thin air
where camp-fires cook our food
and wonder lets the stars
re-track 
the black sky breathe 
our awe
and sing.

Green valleys, hills, whitestreams
a far, still dream 
from Madison and taxis 
cornerstores and taxes
there our neighbour's hand is in
our own 
and our children run.

Let us see our present
in our past 
where all ends meet 
as they began
those early minds 
switched on.

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